Article voiceover
Journal
The day this tree fell I was not there to witness her demise. Now this day ink carves rough layered bark into a clear mirror Reflecting what stands over shoulder my bright face stands there too.
Thank you for reading! If you are so inclined, leave a comment about what strikes you, speaks to you, or stirs in you while you read. I look forward to whatever dialogue may happen here, and within a week I will be following up with a Reflection post on how this poem emerged into being. Feel free to share this poem with someone who needs a shot of poetry in their life!
Brian
Love this, Brian. I have a notebook, in which I prefer to write with a fountain pen. This poem gives me the same emotion as doing just that.
I find it very moving that you begin with the story of the paper under your pen. Letting us know that this poem has been made possible by the sacrifice of another creature. It makes me take a beat. I just want to reverence that moment.